


Stumbled Upon

by jillyfae



Series: Sweetest of All Sounds [13]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Family, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected rendezvous in the Deep Roads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stumbled Upon

**Author's Note:**

> I had an anonymous prompt on tumblr for Nathaniel Howe/Adelaide Hawke/Sebastian Vael. Which singularly failed to work for me, no matter how much I attempted to AU Adelaide.
> 
> So I wrote this instead, which could arguably all be Nathaniel's _fault_ , I suppose. :)

"Hawke, I presume?"  The Warden they’d found lifted a dark brow at them, seemingly unconcerned about the fight they’d just interrupted,  _just helped the poor bastard survive, even._

Aveline had shaken her head when Sebastian had settled into step with them as they headed out of Kirkwall, and it had been difficult not to stick out a tongue in her general direction.  An archer in the Deep Roads was unlikely to be particularly effective, true, what with narrow tunnels and collapsed roofs and uncertain sight lines, but how likely did Aveline think it was that Hawke would really risk going below ground again without Sebastian by her side? 

Adelaide felt quite vindicated in her preference, watching the curve of the Warden’s bow as he smoothly slid it back behind his back.

_Clearly this can work?_

Unless it would only work for Wardens, for people with that odd otherness she’d seen in Anders and attributed to Justice until Carver passed through Kirkwall and she saw an echo of it in him as well, a tilt of his head and a tension in his shoulders, different than the weight he’d carried before, of hiding and protecting her and Bethany throughout the years, but clearly there nonetheless, a shadow behind his eyes despite the apparent bloom of health beneath his skin.

She shook her head, gathered her thoughts as her people settled into place behind her, the weight of their attention oddly comforting as she lifted her chin to finally answer the Warden, this Nathaniel whom they’d been sent to rescue.

"My reputation precedes me?" Adelaide rolled her shoulders, tried out a cocky grin.  "What gave me away, was it all the dead bodies?"

She could almost feel Sebastian and Aveline rolling their eyes together at her flippant words, but Isabela just huffed out a soft breath behind her, apparently deciding to pretend Adelaide was funny, just this once.

"The nose, actually."  There was almost amusement there, in the rough tones of the Warden’s voice, though his face certainly didn’t do anything so simple as  _smile._   “I’ve seen its like before.”

Her grin broke, a sharp pain down her throat, and she almost stepped forward, almost reached out, the weight of Sebastian’s breath behind her the only thing that kept her still.

"Carver?" She kept her voice almost steady, somehow.  "You know Carver?"

Nathaniel nodded, though that hint of softness around his mouth had faded.  “He’s here, actually.  Part of my squad.  Further in, I’m afraid.”

Adelaide turned her head, looked down towards the shadows of the path behind Nathaniel, had to swallow at the thought of all the things that could be hiding in the dark.

"If you’d like to help me dig him out, that would be greatly appreciated."

She nodded.  Of course she’d help.  She’d have helped for strangers; no one deserved to be lost in the Deep.

She’d do anything at all he could think to ask, for Carver.

He nodded back, sharp and brief, and turned to lead the way.

She wanted to step up beside him, ask him anything, everything, beg for news of her brother.  But she couldn’t, quite, make that move, didn’t dare distract him from his duty.

So instead she watched him, this Nathaniel.  He was smart, clearly, had a steady hand and eye, was experienced and practiced at killing ‘spawn. Probably only sort-of needed their help at all, getting back to his lost team.

Pretty good form, too, judging by what she’d picked up from watching Sebastian a bit too closely all these years, firm shoulders and braced hips, and it wasn’t quite the same, of course, but it was still a nice enough view.

_And if that isn’t a ridiculous attempt at distracting myself, I don’t know what is._

Not that it worked.

She couldn’t help but remember the black beneath Carver’s skin, a sickly color worse than any simple lack of light, remember Wesley’s death at Aveline’s hand, and Flemeth’s sharp laugh, and the lines around Anders’ eyes when he’d handed her brother over to that Stroud fellow, and though she tried she’d couldn’t help but imagine that same creeping death behind Daryn’s eyes, beneath Aveline’s skin, or Isabela’s, or Sebastian’s.

She wished she’d dragged Merrill out of the Alienage, had waited until Varric was free of the Guild and Fenris returned from the job he’d taken with the Iron, or had even attempted to convince Anders to come with, just once more, just in case.

She was perhaps, starting to hate the Deep Roads almost as much as he did.

Not that worrying about the Taint would actually prevent it.

Worrying seldom prevented much of anything, despite her inability to stop doing it.

* * *

 

She tried not to think what sorts of horrors darkspawn saw in their nightmares,  _what scares the monsters?,_  but at least her spells still worked on them, causing thin grey fingers to claw at their own bone and fragile skin and sewn-on-leather-patches as they tried to escape whatever imaginary terrors they thought were before their eyes, or making limbs twitch and thin keens escape their mouths as they collapsed, asleep or paralyzed and easy targets for arrows or swords or daggers.

Not claws or teeth though; she pulled Daryn back to stay by her side, protect her back, and hopefully avoid catching the Taint himself.  When she felt him shift away from her despite the apparent quiet of this latest curve of tunnel, she felt a moment of panic, wondering what they’d missed,  _what’s coming now,_  before she recognized the tone of his low soft bark, and had to stop to swallow as he ran ahead.

_Hello, Carver._

She couldn’t seem to get her feet to start again, however, even as their rescued Warden and Daryn disappeared ahead of them, Isabela silently trailing behind, Aveline still solidly in view.

She felt the soft touch of a hand in the middle of her back, and tilted her head to look up at Sebastian, whose face was doing that sweet soft almost smile that made his eyes catch the light  _just so_ , and he lifted his chin to point along their path, and she remembered, at last, to breathe, slow and deep, and went forward to find her brother.

Who turned away from a quick hard embrace with his Warden friend at the sound of her steps, and managed to swallow a smile and roll his eyes and lift his chin in such a way to make it obvious she should be grateful he hadn’t stuck his tongue out at her, or possibly even pulled her hair, all at the same time.

So she hugged him.  And he grumbled and pushed her away, but not until after just one instant when he’d hugged her back, arms strong and warm around her.

And then they killed more darkspawn together.

_Just like old times?_

Only different, because they were both faster, hit harder, because he knew how to time his sword with Nathaniel’s bow at least as well as with her magic.

Only better, because no one else died.

* * *

 

Isabela sighed, flung her arms over both Hawkes’ shoulders for a step or two on their way back to the surface, until the height difference got too much even for her remarkable sense of balance, and she stepped ahead and turned around, walking backwards so as to gesture widely at both of them.

"What is it with you Hawkes and  _archers_  anyways? I’m going to feel quite offended at your lack of appreciation for yours truly at any moment.”

Carver grunted, and hunched his shoulders, “Nathaniel and I are not - “

But then his eyes narrowed and he turned his head just enough to look at Sebastian before his gaze fixed on Adelaide.

"Um?" She managed a word. Almost. That was good. Right?

"Really?"  Carver stopped walking completely, turning to face her directly, something that was almost a scowl creasing between his eyebrows as he looked down at her.

She was afraid to look back at Sebastian as she stumbled to an awkward stop of her own, uncertain which would be worse to see across his face, annoyance or hurt or surprise at the realization of the rather blatant omission from her correspondence with her brother. 

But it wasn’t as if they’d managed more than a note or two over the years, and she hadn’t meant not to tell him, it had just sort of … not ever come up?

Which was horrible.

She was horrible. 

Isabela covered her mouth to smother a laugh masquerading as a cough, spun around on her toes and stalked forward far enough to attempt her arm-to-shoulder slinging maneuver with Nathaniel and Aveline where they were walking in the lead, leaving the rest of them their illusion of privacy.

"This guy?"  Carver’s gesture back at Sebastian looked like he’d barely stopped himself from flicking a rude gesture in his direction.  "The one with assassins after his entire family? The one with  _Andraste_  on his belt buckle?”

"We got rid of the assassins."  Adelaide was pretty sure that was the wrong answer.

She could hear Sebastian sigh.  “Why does everyone always notice the belt first?”

"Merrill didn’t." Adelaide offered, finally looking back at him, relief at the hint of amusement on his face making her head feel like she’d just downed an entire bottle of Fenris’ favorite aggregio.  A not entirely unpleasant floating sensation, really, though the crash was usually painful.  "She just thinks you’re very shiny?"

"That’s so much better, thank you."  Sebastian’s voice turned very endearingly dry, and she couldn’t help but smile at him.

Carver made a sharp sort of grunt in the back of his throat, his attention shifting back and forth between them. “Isn’t he still in the sodding  _Chantry?_ ”

"Of course not!"  That would be even closer to sacrilege than her usual lifestyle, delightedly moving someone still under  _vows_  into her house and her bedroom.  “Well, he’s still the Grand Cleric’s unofficial aide.”

Carver’s eyes closed, familiar pain evident in the tension across his jaw and between his eyes, the deep, long-suffering sigh that escaped him.  “That’s lovely.  Really.”

"She can’t lock me up," Adelaide resisted the urge to rock up on her toes so she could pat his head like she had a dozen years ago, before his growth spurt, when she’d actually still been  _taller_  than her younger brother.  “Not after the Knight-Commander didn’t.”

"I certainly wouldn’t help her if she tried, either."

Adelaide snorted, reached back to let her fingers brush against Sebastian’s hand, felt the shift of his leather glove as his wrist turned, until he held her hand in his.

Carver opened his eyes, but they stayed narrow, glaring over her shoulder at Sebastian.  “You wouldn’t  _help_.  Is that the best you can offer?”

"No."  Sebastian’s fingers squeezed, and she closed her mouth, swallowed the snarl she’d been about to aim at Carver.  "But it made her smile, so it seemed the right thing to say."

"Carver used to dance a jig when he was trying to make me or Bethany laugh."  Adelaide offered, scuffing her feet through the grit and stone beneath them, as if about to demonstrate.

"Adelaide!" They both said her name, surprisingly in time, surprisingly well matched in tone and exasperation.

It was a lovely sound, and she could feel a flash of heat behind her eyes, had to take a breath, deep and hard through her nose.

"Damn, it’s good to see you."

Carved snorted, and Sebastian’s smile quirked, presumably at the familiar sound coming from a different Hawke than usual.

"And I’m sorry I wasn’t quite sure how to tell you about Sebastian, in between a few brief words to check if you were still alive, and then," she swallowed, could see Sebastian still, and Carver tense, and reminded herself to breathe.  "It didn’t seem the time, when I was trying to find you to tell you about Mother."

"And the next three years?"  Carver raised his eyebrows at her, arms crossed before his chest, but there, she saw Sebastian’s shoulders ease, the proof of the slight tension he’d been carrying only noticeable in its absence. 

He knew the next part.

"The last few letters I sent came back unopened."  She shrugged.  "I didn’t know if you didn’t want them, or no one was getting them to you, and it’s not as if the Wardens, as a rule, answer anyone’s questions  _ever._ ”

Carver almost laughed at that, she could tell by the brief flash in his eyes and the lift of his chin, before he shook his head.  “Must have gotten stuck somewhere, then.” His shrug was almost shy, if that wasn’t a rather ridiculous sort of emotion for a giant, the slightest pause between his words as if his voice was thicker than usual, was having trouble breaking free.  “I wouldn’t have sent them back, sister.”

And there, the heat was back behind her eyes, and the ache in her lungs and her heart, and she gave up pretending she was sensible, and grabbed him in another hug.  One he didn’t cut short, this time, the weight of his head leaning down against hers, the heat of his arms around her until they were breathing together.

And so they probably would have stayed, indefinitely, until the Warden running rear guard, whose name she had suddenly and utterly forgotten, coughed semi-discreetly beside them, reminding them that the Deep Roads were not really the best place to stop paying attention to one’s surroundings.

"Can you stay?" Her voice was almost breathless, as they stepped apart, almost too quiet to carry the bare step of space between them.  "In Kirkwall?  Just a day or two?"

He smiled, then,  _an actual smile, not just the lack of a scowl,_  small and crooked and perfect, and he nodded. “I should think so.  Just a day or two.”

"Well then."  She smiled back, rocking up on her toes, each breath light and easy, the press of stone above her no longer of much concern.  "That will just have to do, won’t it?"

"We’re good at making do."  Carver shrugged, and there was that shadow still,  _never not a Grey Warden, never again_ , but he was right. They would make do.  They always did.


End file.
